by Zoe Dawson
“The other bad news?” Anna asked.
“Max,” Dodger said at the same time.
Fast Lane sighed. “This op is going to split us up, which means we’re not only going to be at half power, but we’re also completely on our own. We’re going in the opposite direction of where Max fell,” he said grimly. “There are places that are impassable in the jungle but made worse by the earthquake. And, according to experts, there are more aftershocks coming our way. Max is on his own, but again, the baddies after him are going to be bogged down.”
Fast Lane rose and said, “We leave in thirty minutes. Dodger’s contact got us two Land Rovers, non-descript all-terrain, four-wheel drive vehicles. But with the unpredictability of the impassable roads, we have no idea how far they’ll take us.”
“Doesn’t matter, LT,” Dodger said, “We’ll do this the hard way if we have to.”
Fast Lane nodded. “The other problem is going to be comms. We have satphones, but under the jungle canopy they can be iffy. So we might be out of contact, which doesn’t float my boat.”
“We’ll just make sure we don’t get tangled up in Murphy’s Law,” Dodger said.
“The only easy day was yesterday,” Anna said, surprising them all.
“Copy that,” Fast Lane said.
Renata opened her eyes. God, she was still tired. Taking care of Max had kept her in and out of sleep for the third consecutive day. His fever had broken early in the wee hours of the morning to both Carolina’s and Renata’s relief.
She automatically reached out to check Max’s forehead but came fully awake when she found nothing but an empty pillow. She sat bolt upright, blinking in the early morning light. Sure enough, Max was gone. She looked around and so was Jugs. Her gut dropped into her knees. Where was he?
She scrambled out of bed and headed out of the room in a sprint in her bare feet. Carolina was at the kitchen sink filling the coffee carafe when Renata, probably looking like a madwoman, rushed into the courtyard.
She came out of the house in a hurry and asked, her voice urgent, “What’s wrong?”
Before Renata could answer, Max came in through the garage, limping, in full SEAL battle dress, looking ready to handle any threat. Jugs, his vest now in place, trailed after him.
She took a hard breath at how good he looked, his hair pulled off his face, his color better than it had been in days. Damn, the man was all kinds of threats to a woman’s heart and libido.
“What the hell are you doing?” she shouted. Her voice echoed in the courtyard.
He stopped walking and set his hand on his waist. She was sure he was hiding a wince in there somewhere. His eyes narrowed and his chin lifted. He was in full SEAL, alpha male mode.
“Patrolling. Someone has to do some recon around here. You all are acting like this is the US and we’re perfectly safe here on Old MacDonald’s Farm.”
“But you’re in no shape to go traipsing around,” she said, coming up to him and getting in his face. “You should be resting.”
“Resting? Are you mad? We have a whole contingent of unknowns after me, and that means they’re after you too. Do you think an earthquake is going to stop them from their objective? Me? I’m a prize that they can use.”
“You’re still recovering.”
He smiled. “I’m recovered, Doc. I don’t need any more ministering.”
She automatically reached out to support him, but he shook her off and started for the bedroom. It was like the warm, sexy man who had kissed her last night was gone, replaced by this steely-eyed jerk.
She caught up to him and tried to take his arm again, but this time, he took her hand and removed it from his arm.
“Listen, Doc. I don’t need your help. I’m the one here who does the protecting. It’s my job and I’m going to do it no matter what shape I’m in. Keep your healing hands to yourself. I’ve got myself covered.” He turned back and said, “I’m taking a shower and then you and Mrs. Rojas will fill me in.”
This time her chin lifted, and his stunning blue eyes narrowed. God, he reminded her so much of her overbearing father, and she wondered how she could have been sucked in. She saluted in a sharp, sarcastic way, and that wry upturn of his mouth told her he hadn’t missed the reason for the gesture. He knew she was pissed.
“You might as well be honest and just flip me off, Doc. Try both middle fingers and an emphatic ‘fuck you.’ You’ll feel better.”
He limped away, and she watched him go, having to swallow her Rambo rage.
“I’m sure he means no disrespect,” Carolina said.
Incensed, Renata looked at her, shaking her head. “I’m sure he does.”
Carolina touched her arm and tried to draw her toward the kitchen. “He is a fighting man. They have different views of the world than we do. I know from experience. It’s a matter of survival.”
No. What he had stuck in his craw was that he had needed her help to get here…Old MacDonald’s Farm had saved his life. She had saved his life. But he resented not exactly her, but his inability to do it for himself, and it was eating at him. She wasn’t about to let him think he could pull the wool over her eyes.
“Wait here, Carolina. Don’t worry about the shouting.”
“What?” Carolina squeaked as Renata left her and entered the bedroom.
She found big-gorgeous-and-stubborn in the bathroom at the sink, dressed in nothing but his white boxer briefs, sweating in a way that told her he was hurting. He was twisting to attempt to see his GSW. Exasperated at his ridiculous behavior, she folded her arms over her chest and watched him struggle.
“Your services are not required,” he growled. His gaze slid to hers, briefly, yet the intensity of those blue eyes tightened her muscles. Fury bounced off him in waves. He was a dangerous man to cross, but she was going to knock some sense into him because…well…she’d taken that damn oath.
“That was a nice show you put on out there. Us womenfolk were so impressed.”
This time, he sighed and straightened. Turning toward her, he pinned her with a piercing look. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, the same song and dance you were working a bit hard over there.”
“I’m tending to myself as I should have.”
She snorted and his eyes narrowed.
“Don’t mock me, woman.”
“I can’t help it. I thought SEALs were smart and tactically aware.”
“What the hell? I am smart and tactically aware. That’s why I went on patrol. SEALs are never out of the fight.”
“That may be true in desperate battle conditions. But if you were smart, you would get that to effectively heal, you have to rest. Otherwise, you won’t be any good in a fight if one should come knocking at Old MacDonald’s Farm. I don’t believe the goats and horses mean us any harm. Although, all that cuteness could be lethal.”
It was his turn to snort.
“Yeah, all I’m getting from you is a grumble, grumble here and a grumble, grumble there. Here a grumble, there a grumble, everywhere a grumble, grumble.”
He smiled slowly, his gaze roaming deliberately down from the top of her head to her bare toes. “You like to treat me like a baby, Doc? I assure you, I’m all man.”
Renata had forgotten how she was dressed. Beneath the long, gray T-shirt that fell just shy of a miniskirt, she wore nothing but a pair of pink panties.
A sharp appreciation of him skidded over her—his scent, his unbelievably blue eyes, his big hands, and the delineated lines of muscle that bulged in so many places on his body. He looked beat, drained. His patrolling had sapped his energy and etched lines of pain across his face. And suddenly, last night’s kiss blindsided her, his hot, seeking mouth, plunging deeply, taking her into him. Renata swallowed, flames licking wildly at her body as she stared at the man who put them there.
“There’s no mistaking that,” she whispered. God, she was a fool. She promised herself she would stay away from dangerous, controlling rogues.
He was dangerous. She had thought that. And if Max wasn’t dangerous, then her own treacherous feelings when he was near surely were. She couldn’t fall for him, not for his body or for the power that radiated from him, or her temptation for the forbidden. There was no room in her life for a man like him. But maybe on a temporary basis, a little voice whispered.
She drew in a slow, deep breath, tamping down the emotions, drawing up some strength, focusing on her role here as healer. She’d get him well and then she’d go back to her treasure-seeking. Leave this land mine alone. She shivered, thinking there were explosions in his sultry eyes that didn’t bode well for her equilibrium.
Max heaved a heavy sigh and looked away, the muscles in his lean jaw working.
“Max. Please just let me tend to you. Like I said before. You don’t have anything to prove to me. We have doctor-patient confidentiality. I won’t tell anyone you needed help. I promise.”
He pushed away from the sink, and even with that limp, he was close to her so fast it made her head spin. Or was that just pure, unadulterated Max?
“Our secret,” he murmured, in his low, rough voice. He pressed his damp forehead to hers as if he desperately needed the rest. “I don’t have much of a choice. I can’t reach the damn thing anyway. Have at it, Doc.”
She reached up and pressed her palm against his bristly cheek. “You still have a low-grade fever. After I change your bandage, you should sleep, Max. Okay?”
He nodded. She slipped out from under him and took his hand, bringing him to the commode where she sat. Her black bag was on the back. He must have brought it in here with him. She took a breath at the close proximity to his rippling abs. Getting ahold of herself, she removed his bandage and took a moment to study the wound. It was so much better. On closer examination, she realized that the infection was just about gone.
“I’ll be able to stitch this up tomorrow,” she murmured.
She made the mistake of rising before he stepped away, and everything in her sparked like a live wire dancing out of control. His chest brushed her unbound breasts, making her nipples tighten. Her gasp was filled with sex.
His eyes popped open and they stared at each other with nothing but a whisper between them.
He reached out and pulled her closer, running his hands down her back, chasing shivers, setting off new ones, sliding lower. His head dipped, his mouth pressed to hers, warm and soft. Desire swelled inside her, pushing aside sanity, blazing a trail for more instinctive responses. She arched against him, losing herself in the moment, in the heat of kiss. She tangled her hands in his hair. His hands slid over her buttocks, kneading, stroking. He caught the hem of her T-shirt and dragged it up, his knuckles skimming over the taut muscles of her back, skating along the sides of her rib cage.
Max sent her free-falling through space, and she lost her mind as his mouth did things to hers she’d never experienced before. He claimed her like an erotic dark angel.
“Are you two all right in there? Still both breathing?” Carolina’s soft voice coming from the doorway to the room broke them apart.
“We’re fine,” Renata called out so she wouldn’t catch them like this in the bathroom.
“Good. Come have some breakfast before it gets cold,” she said, her voice receding.
“Now, can you give me some privacy before I take what you’re offering and fuck us both up?”
“I’m not offer—”
“Now who’s the one in denial? Quit while you’re ahead.”
She thought it was prudent to heed his warning.
7
The water cascaded over Max, washing off the sweat and grime from his trek. That was two times he’d failed to keep his hands and mouth off her even after telling himself a combat hookup was a damn bad idea. It wasn’t a joke to be in an operation situation, and the minute he let down his guard, let in an ounce of emotion or want something that was normal, he would be allowing death to find him.
But fuck him, hooking up with her was so damned tempting. He was human, after all, something he was realizing now that he’d found something he couldn’t seem to rationalize.
He wanted to fuck her harder than he’d wanted to fuck any woman he’d ever met, and he hadn’t a clue as to why he wanted to do it deeper than he’d ever thought was possible before. Where was his legendary hard-ass discipline?
Yeah, his intention had been to cup those firm, untethered breasts in his hands, pinch the nipples he’d seen through her shirt in the shower, get his mouth on the hot, tantalizing peaks, suck her and finger-fuck her sweet little core until she came. Then ruthlessly suck that bundle of nerves, getting her off again until she cried out his name over and over.
But he’d been saved from his testosterone-induced madness by Mrs. Rojas. Just barely. His dick was full, jutting from his balls and hard as a rock. He pressed his hands against the shower tiles, his lust for this woman off the charts.
He let his head fall forward, the water pushing his hair into his face. He wasn’t in any frame of mind to analyze why she was so deep under his skin. Usually, he went for the casual relationships, and he admitted he never had much trouble with women, which he attributed to having five sisters, each with an opinion she insisted on sharing with him. They taught him early that pleasing most women was simple, if he’d just listen. The doc…Renata wasn’t so easy to read, and she made him listen till his ears bled. Whenever he expected a reaction, he didn’t get it. He felt completely primal around her part of the time and breathless the other part of the time.
His side sent waves of pain up into his rib cage and chest and down into his hip that was still bruised as hell. Raucous sex was definitely out until he healed. Whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not, they were in a bad place.
Carolina had filled him in on the lack of cell or landline connection, so there was no way she could get help from any authorities or for him to contact Fast Lane. His LT must be going crazy, and the team, geezus, they would pull out all the stops to come after him. If it weren’t Angar Said’s pals who wanted him, it would be those assholes that had shot him out of the sky.
The road was impassible, torn up like a big rake had scraped along it. Some of the land had fallen away, and the river had reclaimed the fracture, filling in what looked like an old riverbed that had once been there. It was only passable on foot until they could build a bridge for vehicle traffic.
There was also the scum of the earth who came out during a natural disaster. Thieves, looters, rapists all took advantage of the isolation and devastation to take what they wanted.
He knew all about the wolves. He’d been doing this job long enough to have gotten the brunt of their handiwork firsthand. The people he protected? They were the sheep, and he was the prowling, vicious sheepdog that kept them all safe.
He hit the tile with the heel of his hand, his frustration and impotent anger getting the better of him, then gasped as it only caused his side to twist and hurt like a son of a bitch. His teammates would show up where he went down, and God only knew what kind of hornet’s nest they would be walking into. He needed to be there, but this damn injury and the protection of these women were holding him back.
He knew what Fast Lane would say. Stay put. We’ll get to you come hell or high water. Max had no doubt. But what would it cost his team?
He gave in and sat in the chair Carolina had set in here for her old man. His body ached both from his injuries and from his overload of lust.
When it came to the doc, he’d need to take the edge off. It wouldn’t make him stop wanting her, but it would help him keep some of his control around her. This woman was going to be the death of him. No question he was going to die from the agonizing, fierce sexual tension leading him to all out insanity.
While the water poured down, he took care of his hard-on the only way that was safe, even as his release was fueled not by his hand, but thoughts of getting deep into Renata.
As soon as he was dried off and dressed, he headed out of the room. He was s
tarving, and the aroma from the kitchen made his mouth water. Jugs, the traitor, had abandoned him, and he had to wonder if it was for the food or the attention those women paid him. He would be a spoiled hound when they got out of here.
The house he’d woken up in was gorgeous. He especially liked the courtyard and the pool. They had a sweet piece of land with horses, goats, and alpacas. Renata might have been needling him, but damn, the goats and alpacas were definitely adorable.
He couldn’t stop the smile that turned up his lips when he remembered how she’d grumbled her way through the Old MacDonald song. He liked her style. That was the problem. Most of the time, when he was in that kind of mood, not even his teammates would bother him. But, no, not Renata…
Where the hell had all that freaking hair come from? When he’d met her, it had been tightly contained in two braids on either side of her head that then flowed into one down her back. Every time he saw her with those amazing loose curls, he wanted to touch their springy softness.
“Join us,” Carolina said with a broad smile. “You are most welcome.”
The carved sunflower table was set with three plates and heaped with an egg dish and those delicious cheese rolls he’d had yesterday along with what looked like strawberry jam. He took a chair next to Renata and worked at trying to keep his nose from taking in all that sweet woman fragrance.
